


Raise Your Glass

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [40]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bar Owner!Derek, Derek thinks Stiles is underage, F/M, M/M, Not-Actually-Underage!Stiles, but he wants to tap that anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It takes him a good five minutes to muscle his way to the front of the queue, and when he finally reaches the bar, he comes face-to-face with the most beautiful man he's ever seen in his life. His breath catches for a moment of stunned stupidity before a flirty smile slides automatically onto his face, and he leans into the bartender's space so he can be heard without screaming. "Raspberry daiquiri, please. And a rum and coke for my boring ass friend over there."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Derek raises an eyebrow. "You sure you can order that?" he asks pointedly; at most, this kid has to be a freshman. Surely he's not stupid enough to try to bluff past Derek, and he didn't see a stamp from Boyd saying he was underage...</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Stiles rolls his eyes. "Please," he says, smirking. "Raspberry daiquiris are my jam. So be a gentleman and go make me one so I can enjoy the view."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Raise Your Glass

The bar is heaving tonight. They do pretty good business all year round, but it's never quite like it is tonight, the first night after the local college opens its doors for the first week of term. Erica sighs as she wipes down the counter and pointedly ignores the hopeful face trying to draw her attention. They'll bring in more people tonight than they will for the rest of the year, Christmas and New Year's Eve aside, but they're also not making much money. There's only so many fresh-faced kids that can be shamed into buying a coke when they're refused alcohol; most are so embarrassed that they just leave, and there's always a select few that kick up such a fuss that Derek has to physically thrown them out.

Things will pick up in an hour or two, when the bouncer gets here and they start IDing on the door, but for now they all have to deal with idealistic children who think that getting in early will somehow work in their favour. Most of them aren't even smart enough to produce fake IDs.

This kid is one of them, Erica knows without even having to look at him properly, but she can't ignore him forever, so she abandons her dishcloth to turn towards him with a dangerous smile. "What can I get for you? A coke? A lemonade? No?" The idiot shakes his head, looking pale and dumbstruck. "Then scram, sweetie. We're not in the business of serving alcohol to minors, and I'm pretty sure it's closing in on your bedtime."

The kid follows her advice, but before Erica can feel particularly smug about it, someone knocks into her shoulder. "Coulda gone a little easier on him," Isaac admonishes. "He looked like he was about to piss himself."

.

Erica rolls her eyes. "Why should I be nice about it? The fact that they think I'll serve them is an insult to my intelligence. I can insult them right back if I want to." She spots Derek turning to grab a beer for a customer who's actually of age - shock, horror! - and her smile turns sweet. "Remind me whose dumb idea it was to open a bar right next to a university, fearless leader?"

It's an old argument. "Mine; you know there are plenty of students looking for a bar that's nice, modern, and reasonably priced for a student's budget," he says calmly, handing the beer to the student - a kid with a crooked jaw and curly hair. "Not to mention close enough to the dorms that they can walk home and don't need to pay for a taxi if they're living on campus."

"Which is nice and everything," Erica agrees, moving to pull a coke for a girl who, thankfully, seems comfortable owning the fact that she looks twelve, "but there are kids coming in here who look like they still belong at home with Mommy and their comfort blankie." She makes eye contact with the girl as she hands over the coke and has the grace to look sheepish. "No offence."

The girl just laughs, and says, "None taken."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, I know. Boyd's almost here, so he'll be able to card at the door."

"Good," Erica says with feeling. "Because I'm _bored_." The door opens then, admitting a fresh gaggle of kids that _all_ look underage, and Erica groans, turning away. "I'm going on break. Have fun, Der."

Stiles, meanwhile, fights his way through the press of bodies to Scott's side. "Holy shit, this place is amazing! Why have we never been here before, dude? It's named after me!"

Scott rolls his eyes, expression fond. "Unless you started spelling your name with a y instead of an i..." he teases. "And really, they just opened towards the end of last semester, and you and I were both swamped with finals."

"Details, Scott," Stiles sniffs, waving his hand. "What are you drinking? Is there a cocktail menu?"

Scott shows Stiles his bottle. "I don't want to get really drunk," he explains. "Not the first week of senior year, anyway."

Stiles rolls his eyes hard. "Boring," he says, and snags the drinks menu off their table. It takes him a good five minutes to muscle his way to the front of the queue, and when he finally reaches the bar, he comes face-to-face with the most beautiful man he's ever seen in his life. His breath catches for a moment of stunned stupidity before a flirty smile slides automatically onto his face, and he leans into the bartender's space so he can be heard without screaming. "Raspberry daiquiri, please. And a rum and coke for my boring ass friend over there."

Derek raises an eyebrow. "You sure you can order that?" he asks pointedly; at most, this kid has to be a freshman. Surely he's not stupid enough to try to bluff past Derek, and he didn't see a stamp from Boyd saying he was underage...

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Please," he says, smirking. "Raspberry daiquiris are my jam. So be a gentleman and go make me one so I can enjoy the view."

Derek snorts, but complies; one drink won't hurt the kid, he decides. "Now I know you don't have a tab, so who's paying for this stuff?"

Stiles is prepared, and waves his debit card in front of the guy's face. "You can pay for the next one, though."

"Yeah, no," Derek scoffs, swiping the card from the kid's hand and ringing up his total before handing it and the drinks back. 

Stiles flushes, but he manages a laugh as he picks up the glasses. "Your loss, man."

Derek's eyebrow climbs higher, but that doesn't stop him from noting that the kid _does_ have a very nice ass... He stops Isaac when the latter walks by. "Do you know him?" he asks, jerking his head at the kid who's just now sitting down with the other kid from earlier, the one with the crooked jaw. 

Isaac barely glances over and shakes his head. "Never seen him in my life," he says. "He causing trouble?"

"No," Derek says thoughtfully. "I was just wondering; I didn't catch his name." Too late, he realizes how that might sound. 

But Isaac either doesn't notice the kid's age, or he doesn't care, because he just laughs. "Better luck next time, I guess."

Stiles approaches the bar again about half an hour later, when the few remaining teenagers are glumly sipping soft drinks and the doorman is keeping any others away. The staff look significantly less stressed, including the guy that served him before. He's the only one not on break when Stiles draws close, and Stiles doesn't know if that's good luck or bad, but he smiles anyway. "Hey," he says. "Can I get a beer and a... fuzzy shark, please."

Derek raises an eyebrow at the request, but starts mixing the drinks anyway. "So," he says, striving for casual but sure he's missing the mark, "I didn't catch your name earlier."

Stiles smirks. "It's Stiles," he says. "With an I."

Derek grins at that. "Derek," he says, gesturing to himself. "Do you always order complicated drinks?" He kind of hope Stiles doesn't, not if he's under twenty-one. 

Stiles shrugs. "I like to play the field a little," he says. "You guys have some interesting-looking cocktails on your menu - how will I know which one I like best if I don't try them all?"

"Fair enough," Derek says evenly. "Here you go."

Stiles grins cheekily and takes the drinks. "Thanks, champ," he says. "I'll be back in a bit!"

* * *

When Derek comes back from the break he finally took, he's greeted by a grinning Stiles; one look is enough to tell Derek everything. "No," he says flatly. "No more alcohol for you." Jesus, how much did Erica serve him?

"I'm not _that_ drunk," Stiles protests, and the words are surprisingly coherent. "Believe me, bro, I have been drunk before and this is not it. M'just merry."

"You're still not getting any alcohol," Derek retorts. "It's late, and don't you have classes tomorrow?"

Stiles shrugs. "Just induction stuff, nothing important," he says. "But that's okay. We should probably head out."

Derek nods. "Which dorm are you guys in? If you need any help getting back, I can send Isaac out to unlock your doors or something." Isaac would bitch and moan, but Derek always paid him and Boyd extra when they did this.

Stiles laughs. "I'm not _that_ drunk," he says. "Besides, you're not knowing where I live unless you're coming with me."

"Can't," Derek shoots back. "I'm stuck here all night."

"Shame," Stiles says wistfully. "Well, I guess I'll see you around, Derek."

Derek just nods. "See you around."

* * *

"Oh my _God_ ," Stiles sighs when, two days later, Scott mentions their time at Styles to their friends, and accuses Stiles of being too busy flirting with the bartender to pay him any attention. "But Scott, did you see his _ass_?"

"I did not," Scott says primly. "I have a girlfriend, remember?"

"Doesn't stop you from appreciating a fine piece of ass," Stiles insists. "And that ass was _fine_."

Scott rolls his eyes, meeting Kira's gaze. "I'm sure it was," he says patiently, "but he's the bartender - owner, I think actually. And we can't waste _all_ of our money down there."

"We're still gonna go back though, right?" Stiles asks, looking pathetically hopeful.

Scott sighs, and Kira's intervenes. "Yes, we will - but not until this weekend at the earliest," she promises. "We can't spend _all_ of our time in bars."

Stiles grins. "I can work with that."

* * *

The first Friday evening of the semester means that the bar is packed; it lulled during the week, but now it's back in full swing - not that Derek's complaining. He may not be the most sociable person, but so long as the bar's full and most everyone's happy, he's happy. 

Still, he can't help but keep an eye out for that kid - Stiles - from the first night of the semester. He tells himself it's so he can make sure that Stiles doesn't get any alcohol without being properly ID'ed, but if the way both Erica and Isaac are smirking at him is any indication, he's fooling no one but himself. 

Stiles turns up with Scott and Kira just before Boyd is due to arrive, and Stiles zeroes in on Derek immediately. "Go find us a table," he tells the others. "I'll get the first round in." He fights his way to the bar and the gods must be smiling on him, because Derek is the only bartender free when it's his turn. "Hey stranger, did you miss me?"

"Stiles," Derek acknowledges, trying to pretend he's not pleased to see the kid; what is _wrong_ with him? "What can I get for you?"

"Two raspberry daiquiris and a passion fruit one, if you please."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Have to make my job harder, don't you?" he asks rhetorically as he starts mixing the drinks. 

Stiles just grins, and lets his gaze wander shamelessly to Derek's ass while he waits.

Derek has the drinks whipped up fairly quickly, and he settles them on a tray before passing that over to Stiles. "You gonna be here the rest of the night?"

"Probably," Stiles says. "Why? Trying to get rid of me?"

"Trying to make sure you don't get too much alcohol," Derek retorts. "Now shoo; you're not the only customer here."

Stiles laughs and takes the tray, making his way over to the table Scott and Kira have found. It has a very convenient view of the bar, and Stiles drops into his seat with a dreamy sigh. "Isn't he beautiful, Kira?" he asks, because Scott wouldn't know about these things. "Like, 'oh my god I'm going to cry' beautiful."

"He is attractive," she says thoughtfully. "Any idea how old he is?"

"Older, I think," Stiles says, "but not by much. He can't be older than thirty."

Kira hums. "Well, I just hope you know what you're doing; I don't think he'll be very receptive to flirting." She nodded to where Derek was pointedly ignoring a woman who was all but shoving her cleavage in his face. 

Stiles shrugs. "Maybe he's just gay," he says. "He asked for my address the last time we were here."

"Maybe," Kira allows. "Maybe he just won't do anything while he's on duty."

"Of course not," Stiles says. "He _did_ say that he wouldn't be able to take me home until he clocked off. But he's a professional; I can respect that."

Kira snorts at that. "Of course you can."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Whatever," he says. "Just hurry up and finish that so I can go back up and flirt some more."

Scott and Kira share a long-suffering look, but comply. 

* * *

And so it continues. They get through three more rounds before they start getting ready to call it a night, and Stiles insists on one last drink before they leave - on him. When he gets to the bar, he's not as drunk as he was last time, and Derek is there to serve him again. Just like he has been every time Stiles has bought a drink tonight. "A godfather, a fuzzy shark and a jelly baby, kind sir."

"I hope you don't have any Saturday classes," Derek says - mutters almost. Really, he's annoyed with himself but he can't keep from taking it out on everyone else. 

"Obviously not," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. "I'm not completely irresponsible."

"Right. I'm guessing this is your last round?" Derek determinedly keeps his focus on the drinks he's making, trying hard not to think about Stiles with his pert ass and round, full mouth that Derek was sure he could put to good use was _right there._ Right on the other side of the bar. 

Stiles nods, though Derek isn't looking at him. "Yeah, Kira and Scott are tired, and I should probably at least try to get to sleep before dawn. What about you? You getting out of here soon?"

"Need to clean up," Derek answers, and it's not a lie; he's usually the last to leave the bar every night he works. "Won't leave here for a few hours yet."

"Shame," Stiles says, and he means it. "You must be tired."

Derek shrugs, finishing the last of the drinks. "I sleep in late on days I work."

"Fair enough," Stiles says. He checks his wallet and grimaces before handing over his card. "Are you okay?"

"It's been a long night," Derek says evasively, taking the card and ringing up the total. 

Stiles shrugs. "Fine," he says. "I guess I'll see you around."

Derek responds with a shrug of his own. 

* * *

Stiles doesn't stop coming, and eventually Derek decides that if he never actually _acts_ on the thoughts he's been having more and more lately, well, there's no harm done, right? 

Right. 

So, Derek starts flirting back. Just a little. A comment here or there; when Erica asks, he says he's just trying to get the kid to leave faster, but he doesn't think it fooled her if the smirk on her face was any indication. Derek tries not to think about the fact that he's actually starting to enjoy flirting with Stiles. 

Then comes Promo Night. A different drink - or set of drinks - on promotion one night a month, at a special price. Naturally, the bar is packed; they made sure to schedule this Promo Night on a Friday, to draw the most college students. Derek's been hoping Stiles would be among that crowd, but so far he hasn't seen heads nor tails of him. 

Stiles isn't there because he's stuck in the line outside, waiting for the doorman to let him in. Styles is normally busy on a Friday night, but not _this_ busy, and the doorman is never here this early. When he finally reaches the door, he's more than halfway to giving up and going home, and he flashes his ID at the guy who barely even looks at it before letting him and Scott past.

As soon as they get inside, the reason for their wait and the crowd becomes apparent. It's Promo Night. "Goddamn it," Stiles sighs to Scott. "Even if he's working, he'll be too busy to talk to me." Scott looks disapproving, so Stiles just pushes him toward a table that's just been freed up and heads to the bar.

Derek doesn't spot Stiles until he's the second person in line. All he does is nod, even though something in him relaxes as soon as he sees Stiles. Once he's done with the customer's drink and takes payment, he offers Stiles a slight smile. "What can I get you?"

Stiles grins. "What are you promoting tonight?" he asks.

"Ciders," Derek answers, gesturing to a small chalkboard. "Anything on there is half price."

"Nice." Stiles glances over the board and points to the third title down. "One of those, I think, for us to share. And a raspberry daiquiri and a snowball, please."

Derek nods, turning to make up the drinks. "How are classes going?"

"Pretty good, yeah," Stiles answers. "How's--"

.

"Hey, barkeep!" an older man shouts from somewhere to Stiles' left. "I've been waiting for these drinks for ten minutes! Why does this kid get special treatment?"

Derek recognizes the guy, and he makes a note to have Boyd make some things very clear to him later. This isn't the worst this guy's ever done, but Derek has no desire for a repeat if 'the worst.' "Because he was in my line, and you weren't," Derek says shortly, and then to Stiles, "Sit down and I'll bring you your drinks."

Stiles gives Derek an amused look but turns to head back to his table. "They're coming," he assures Scott. "I got us a weird-looking cider and you a snowball, because you don't drink enough cocktails."

Scott rolls his eyes, and they settle in to wait. 

* * *

Derek isn't going to have Boyd warn this douche of anything; by the time Derek finally retrieves a drink the man is satisfied with, he all but slams it on the table. "Drink this, then get the fuck out of my bar and don't bother coming back," he growls. "I've had enough of your stunts, and the doorman will be told you're not to be allowed in." He leaves the man spluttering behind him, and seeks out Boyd. It takes another ten minutes to get that sorted out, and by the time Derek remembers about Stiles's drinks, it's been an hour. He makes them as quickly as he can, seeking out Stiles's table. "I'm sorry for the wait," he says, flushing slightly as he deposits the tray on the table. "They're on the house." This last is said directly to Stiles with an apologetic smile. 

"Are you sure?" Stiles asks, his eyes wide. "We saw what happened with that asshole; we understand why it took so long."

"I'm sure," Derek says firmly. "Enjoy your drinks." This time, the smile he gives Stiles is more of a smirk, but he's quickly called back to the bar by Erica.

Stiles watches him go with a wistful expression. "I wanna climb him like a tree."

* * *

The rest of the night is, thankfully, busy but easy. The asshole contemplates not leaving after he finished his drink, but when Boyd came over to his table and crossed his rather formidable arms and raised one pointed eyebrow, the man scarpered faster than a rat abandoning ship. It made both Derek and Erica laugh, and even Boyd cracked a smile; they'd all been looking for an excuse to ban that man ever since midsummer, when he'd 'accidentally' spilled a drink on Erica's blouse, causing it to go see-through. She still hadn't gotten the stain out. As the clock ticks closer to last call, the bar gradually empties, and Derek's surprised when Stiles shows up once again. "I thought you'd headed home," he says, wiping down a glass.

Stiles smiles. "Nah," he says. "Couldn't go without saying goodbye, could I?"

That brings a grin to Derek's face, even if it's just a quick one. "Well, thank you for thinking of me," he laughs. 

"Anytime," Stiles says. He looks around, noting that there are only three tables occupied including his and Scott's, and that one of Derek's colleagues is standing at the other end of the bar; it's not like Derek's in high demand right now, and it's nearly closing time. "Why don't you join me for my last drink?"

Derek glances at Erica, who immediately starts nodding before he can even think of asking her anything, and Derek rolls his eyes. "Erica's taking the bar, and I haven't taken a break all night. So, sure. Let me just put this glass away."

Stiles' smile instantly brightens into a grin. "Awesome!"

Derek mixes a couple of drinks for them before he follows Stiles out to their table; on the way, he has to constantly remind himself that he and Stiles are approaching something like friendship, that it's not _wrong_ or in any way breaking his promise of not acting on any flirting for him to sit and have a drink with his _friend._ "So," he says as they sit, casting about for any sort of topic. "I don't know if you've mentioned what you're studying?"

"Classical mythology," Stiles answers. "No clue what I want to go into, but it's interesting. Scott is studying to be a vet."

Derek hums. "Well, if it interests you, you'll find some way of incorporating it into whatever you do."

Stiles smiles. "So what about you? Did you go to college?"

"I did; just got a general degree, though," Derek says. "Didn't have any desire to go into the 'family business', so I decided to open a bar."

"So this place is yours, then?" Stiles asks, glancing at Scott. "We thought so, but we weren't sure."

Derek nods. "Completely bought and paid for; my family is, well - really well-off. They loaned me the money to purchase the property and get started, but everything else is my own work - and Erica, Isaac, and Boyd's, of course."

Stiles nods, interested. "That's really impressive," he says, and he kicks Scott under the table. "Isn't it, Scott?"

Scott yelps and looks up from his phone; he’s got very little interest in watching Stiles flirt. " _Ow!_ What's impressive?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Never mind, Scott," he says. "Forgive him; he's a little lovesick just now."

Derek laughs. "That's alright," he says. "Being a bartender and owner isn't a very exciting job."

"Doesn't mean you're not an exciting person, though," Stiles says. "I'm paying attention."

The side of Derek's mouth lifts, and he's ready to respond when someone taps his shoulder. "Sorry," Isaac apologizes, "but I need your help in the back. I think we're short on cherries again."

Derek sighs. "Of course we are." He downs the rest of the drink, and gives Stiles a smile. "I'll talk to you later?"

"I'll hold you to that," Stiles promises.

* * *

"What the hell am I _doing?_ " Derek groans, throwing himself on his sister's couch. 

"Flirting?" Laura asks with a smirk. "It sounds like you're not doing too badly at it, as well."

"I'm pretty sure he's under twenty-one," Derek says mournfully. "And I want to fuck him. No, scratch that; I want to _date_ him."

"Well, if he's going to college then he's over eighteen, right? Legally speaking, you can do all of those things."

"I'm twenty-seven, Laur!" Derek whines - and he's aware that he sounds like a child right now, but sue him, he's frustrated. "That's at least six years if he's twenty-one, probably more!"

"Okay, that does make you sound like a cradle snatcher," Laura admits. "But you really like him?"

Derek nods. "He's really funny, and nice, and sarcastic, and his fucking _mouth_ \- "

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Laura interrupts. "I don't need to hear that, at all. What I need to hear is what it is about this guy that's so special."

Derek shrugs. "I don't know. All I know is that somehow, he never got discouraged whenever I tried to shut down any flirting or ignore it, and then we started talking while I was mixing drinks, and got to know each other a bit, and I want to know more, I want to know _everything._ "

"Jeesh," Laura breathes. "You've got it bad, baby bro. What are you going to do?"

Derek shrugs. "I don't know," he says. "That's why I came here."

"Well I don't know," Laura says. "Is the age difference going to really bother you?"

Derek thinks about it for a moment. "I guess... I think I'm worried about it because I don't want to feel like I'm robbing him of anything, or him to feel that way. And few college students want to seriously date someone more than two or three years older than them, and I don't really want a fling."

"Well, could you talk to him about that?" Laura asks. "Make it clear that if he wants to pursue something, that's what it has to be like?"

"I... _could,_ " Derek says evasively. He doesn't particularly _want_ to, but he could. 

"But you won't," Laura deduces. "Why?"

Derek sighs. "I'm afraid of him rejecting me, or saying he wasn't interested in anything serious," he finally confesses. 

"And protecting yourself from that is, what? Better than him coming to your bar every weekend and throwing himself at you? At least if you say something, you'll both know where you stand."

Derek groans. "I hate it when you make sense."

Laura grins. "You know who to thank when you're all loved up."

"And who to blame if things go wrong," Derek shoots back. 

Laura just shrugs. "I can take it."

* * *

But Stiles doesn't go to the bar for the next two weeks, at least not while Derek is on shift, and so Derek doesn't get a chance to act on Laura's advice. One Saturday, though, while he's wandering through the mall, he hears a familiar voice shouting his name.

When he turns, it's to see Stiles waving excitedly, his free hand occupied by the hand of a pretty redhead who looks more than a little disgruntled at this interruption in her shopping spree. "Derek!" Stiles shouts again, hurrying over. "Hey, man! How's it going?"

"Oh, hi Stiles," Derek says, throttling disappointment. "I'm uh, good. Just picking up some new clothes. Who's this?" The redhead has caught up with Stiles and is now giving Derek an assessing look. 

"This is Lydia," Stiles says, grinning from ear to ear. Lydia doesn't speak, just keeps looking at Derek, so Stiles continues, "We were just about to grab some lunch, actually - do you want to join us?"

Derek glances at Lydia, then shakes his head. "No, I uh, don't want to intrude."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lydia says suddenly, surprising them both. "Stiles has been looking for an excuse to get out of this all day, and you're it. You two go for lunch, and I'll continue my retail therapy in peace."

Derek hesitates. "If you're sure..."

"Oh, I'm sure," Lydia says. She releases Stiles' hand and gives him a little push, so that he stumbles half a step closer to Derek. "Have a nice time, boys." She's gone a moment later, leaving Stiles flushed and embarrassed.

"Uh, sorry about that? You really don't have to come with me if you don't want to."

Derek hesitates. "No, I could do with a bite to eat. There's a good Italian place in here if you want to try that?"

Stiles smiles, small and hopeful. "I'd like that."

Derek tries to work up the courage to say something while they walk to the food court, then while they're waiting on their food, but it's not until they're sitting down and have started eating that he manages to blurt, "Is Lydia your girlfriend?" 

Stiles snorts so hard he almost chokes. "I wish," he laughs. "Well, I used to wish, back when I was like fifteen. We've come a long way since then."

"Oh." Derek tries not to seem too relieved. "Well she seems... nice."

Again, Stiles laughs. "No, she doesn't," he says, "but she is. She's great. I love her a lot."

Derek wants to follow Laura’s advice now, ask Stiles what's going on between them, but something holds him back. Instead, he says, "Tell me more about your childhood; where did you grow up?"

If Stiles is surprised by the abrupt change in topic, he doesn't show it. "A little town in California, Beacon Hills," he answers. "What about you?"

"A few hours from there," Derek answers. "We were closer to San Diego."

"Wow," Stiles says, impressed. "We were almost neighbours." He grins. "Maybe this is fate, then."

Derek grins back. "Maybe it is," he agrees.

* * *

As soon as Derek is safely in his car, he curses himself loudly and thoroughly. _Why_ hadn't he just asked what Stiles was hoping to get out of whatever this was between them? Because he’s a fucking coward, that's why. 

He continues mumbling and muttering to himself as he drives home, and is in a thoroughly bad mood the rest of the evening. So, of course, everything comes crashing down on him the next day. 

* * *

For the first time since the start of the semester, when Stiles walks into Styles Derek is nowhere to be seen. "That's weird," Stiles mumbles to Scott. "I thought he always worked Fridays."

"Who cares?" Scott complains. "Go get a drink and let's test out this thing where we talk about something that's _not_ the hot bartender."

Stiles shoves Scott in the direction of the table with a grumble and heads over to the bar, where the blonde bombshell he's never spoken to is eyeing him with something close to hunger. "Um, hi," he says. "I'll have a--"

Erica smirks. "Ah, ah - ID first." 

At the other end of the bar, Derek spots the wicked gleam in Erica's eye - and then he spots Stiles reaching for his wallet. _Shit._ "Erica - "

Stiles turns at the sound of Derek's voice, and breaks out into a huge grin. "There you are!" he cries. "I was worried you weren't working tonight."

"I bet," Erica mutters.

Stiles ignores her, and having pulled out his wallet is now focused on rummaging through his cards. "This is so weird," he says to himself. "I swear I had it this morning..."

"Sorry," Erica says blithely. "No ID, no service. Isn't that right, _boss_?"

 _Fuck._ "Right," Derek says, a bit weakly. "Sorry."

Stiles looks miffed. "Well, you've served me before," he says to Derek, "so I don't see what the problem is."

Erica's smirk deepens as she says quickly, "Oh, if Derek's seen your ID, I guess I can serve you. Have you seen his ID, Derek?"

"No, he hasn't," Stiles says, impatient. "What I'm saying is that he's never questioned my age before, and he owns the place, so it shouldn't be an issue. But, it doesn't matter. Scott has ID, and I didn't come in here for a drink anyway, I wanted to--"

"He's never ID'ed you?" Erica asks, throwing Derek a look of shock that he's not sure is fake. " _Derek._ "

"It's Boyd's job to ID customers," Derek protests, but it's flimsy at best. There were several times he knew that Stiles came in before Boyd went on duty, and Derek had still served him alcohol. If Stiles is really underage... 

"Yeah, and he has before," Stiles says. "Why is this such a big deal all of a sudden? It's not like-- Wait!" He suddenly pulls his driver’s licence from the very back of his wallet and waves it in Erica's face. "Here it is!"

Derek reaches for the card, but Erica's quicker. "Let's see," she hums, scanning the card - even though a glance is really all that's needed. She pretends to scan it for a moment, presumably looking for any details to determine it as a fake, then nods, satisfied. "Well, Mr. Stilinski - congrats on being a few months from your twenty-second birthday."

She moves to hand the card back, but Derek grabs it, and feels his face flush in embarrassment. "He's legal," he says, almost a grunt, and then disappears into the back to go dunk his head in an ice bucket. 

Stiles gapes after him. "What the hell was that?" he demands.

Erica just sighs. "You'd better follow him," she says, and lifts the hatch so that Stiles can do just that.

Isaac directs Stiles all the way back to the very back of the storeroom, where Derek is sitting on a stool and rubbing his temples. He only glances up when Stiles enters, and says, "I thought you were underage."

Stiles actually laughs. "Yeah, okay," he says. "Now tell me what's really bugging you."

"No, you don't get it," Derek snaps. "I thought you were underage, and I still served you alcohol without checking!"

Stiles sobers, and blinks at Derek. " _Why_?"

Derek sighs, frustrated. "Because I was interested in you."

"You-- shit." Stiles presses a hand to his mouth, but doesn't quite succeed in smothering another laugh. "I'm sorry, but this is kinda hilarious. You've thought I was underage this whole time? Derek, my dad's a cop."

Derek pales. "Jesus."

"No!" Stiles cries quickly. "No, I'm not saying I'm going to tell anyone!"

"But if you had - "

"Do you really think that little of me?" Stiles asks, looking hurt. "Why would I do that? Unless you're selling alcohol to other, actually underage people, or you were only interested in me because you thought I was a _minor_ \--"

"I was worried you might go bragging," Derek says, "and no, I wasn't interested in you just because I thought you were a minor; I tried _not_ to be interested in you because of that."

Stiles fights the urge to stamp his feet like the child Derek apparently thought he was until a few minutes ago. "Derek, listen to yourself!" he cries. "If you _really_ thought I was going to rat on you, you wouldn't have kept serving me! And since I'm _not_ going to rat on you, since there's nothing for me to even rat on you _for_ , can we please forget that and talk about this like adults? I really like you, and I don't want the fact that you've been _obeying the law_ to ruin this."

"And what is _this?_ " Derek asks, suddenly feeling very weary. 

Stiles sighs. "I don't know," he admits quietly. "I thought it could be something, I worked up all my courage and I was going to ask you out tonight, but since we've apparently been at cross purposes all this time I think maybe some things need to be reevaluated."

Derek scrubs a hand over his face. "I was trying to yesterday," he confesses. "I don't want some fling, or something temporary. That was another thing I was worried about; I'm twenty-seven, a couple of weeks from twenty-eight, and in my experience most college students aren't looking for something serious with someone who's six or seven years older than them."

"And you tarred me with that brush without even asking," Stiles says flatly.

"I did," Derek admits, because there's no denying that was exactly what he'd done. 

"If I just wanted to have sex with you, Derek, I would have given up weeks ago," Stiles says. "And, I mean, I do want to have sex with you. You're-- you're _gorgeous_. But I came here tonight so nervous that I didn't even tell Scott the truth, because mostly I just want to date the crap out of you, and make you smile and laugh and be happy."

Derek lets a small smile form, hopeful. "I'd like that," he says quietly. 

Stiles smiles back. "So, do you want to buy me a drink sometime?"

Derek's grin widens. "I'd like that, too."

"Awesome," Stiles says. "From somewhere not here. Although I wouldn't say no if you wanted to give me free drinks for the rest of the night."

Derek laughs. "Not all night. I do still have to turn a profit."

Stiles scoffs. "Whatever," he laughs. "If you're that worried about turning a profit on a Friday night, get back out there and do your job."

Derek grins. "Of course. Are we okay?"

"More than," Stiles promises.

* * *

Dating Stiles is even better than Derek had ever let himself hope. They fight, of course, but they’re generally able to find a way to resolve it - even if the solution is to kiss each other senseless, fuck like rabbits, and _then_ talk about things like the adults they're both supposed to be. 

They start dating just before the Christmas break, and it's spring break before Derek meets Stiles's father - the sheriff. (Stiles has already met Laura and Skyped with Derek's parents and they all adore him.) Derek's already nervous - the sheriff had answered the door in full uniform, gun and all - and Stiles isn't. Helping. 

"Dad, did you know that Derek runs a bar?" Stiles is asking, though they're all fully aware that that was one of the first things he told the sheriff. "It's right by the college; he gets _loads_ of underage students trying to get served, but he's absolutely ruthless. Isn't that right, Derek?"

Derek nods, trying not to flush or something equally possibly incriminating. "Yes; all of the employees are trained to spot fakes."

"And you always ID, right?" Stiles presses. "If you're even remotely unsure?"

It takes everything Derek has not to squirm. "That's the policy."

The sheriff snorts. "Is that how you two met?" he asks. "Did someone cause a fuss over Stiles' age?"

Stiles cackles with glee. "Well, it's funny you should say that, Dad."

Derek kicks Stiles in the shin. "Yes, but we got it all sorted out."

The sheriff looks between the two, and then levels Derek with a stern look. "Son, I hope you know that if you've been knowingly serving alcohol to underage kids, I'll have to report you to your local authority."

Stiles flails. "Dad!"

"I can honestly say that I haven't been knowingly selling alcohol to underage kids," Derek says - and it's true. He hadn't _known_ that Stiles was underage; just suspected. And it had turned out that he wasn't underage. 

The sheriff grins. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he says. "Although it is also illegal to serve alcohol to anyone you _suspect_ is underage."

"I am aware of that fact." If he hadn't been, Stiles would have quickly remedied that. 

The sheriff sits back, looking impressed. "You're a tough nut to crack, Hale," he says, and shoots a glance at Stiles. "I like him."

Stiles narrows his eyes. "You know!"

Derek blinks. "He knows... what?" he asks warily. 

"That you were serving Stiles before you knew how old he was," the sheriff says, smug.

Derek swears. "In my defense, he did get past Boyd several times."

"Yeah, with my ID," Stiles snorts.

The sheriff just shakes his head. "It happens to the best of us, son," he says. "We all look the other way for people that we care about."

Derek glances at Stiles, and smiles slightly. "Yeah. I guess we do."

Stiles melts, and reaches out to take Derek's hand. "I care about you, too."

Derek's smile widens and he gives Stiles's hand a squeeze while the sheriff rolls his eyes. 


End file.
